


for every lover, there's a piece of sky

by dollsome



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27552634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: In which Dean and Cas improbably get their happily ever after, and Cas decides that's grounds for a picnic.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	for every lover, there's a piece of sky

**Author's Note:**

> O, THE SHEER HILARITY OF THIS EXISTING. Disclaimer: As someone who has NEVER SEEN MOST OF SUPERNATURAL, including the VAST majority of the Dean/Cas years, I really have no business writing this. Like, I cannot possibly stress how much there might already be an episode about them going on a picnic that I just don’t know about. But ever-so-plucky on Tumblr gave me the delightful prompt “Dean/Cas + a-tisket, a-tasket”, so I watched like three minutes of shippy scene compilation videos on YouTube and tapped into the power of every Destiel gifset mine eyes have ever looked upon and I went for it, man!
> 
> So I guess this just exists in Vague Happy Endgame Land Where Cas Has Probably Become A Human Being To Live Out All The Rest Of His Mortal Life W/ Dean, a place I like to believe in. I really think in 2020 we could use it as a fandom society.
> 
> Thanks 2 Buffy Summers for letting me borrow one of her lines. The title is from Heather Nova's "Winter Blue," an absolutely excellent swoony love song.

Dean opens his eyes. There’s a perfect picnic basket sitting on the other side of the motel bed. Like something out of an old movie, red gingham blanket peeking up out of the folding lid and all. He’s seen some weird shit in his life, but there’s something about waking up to an adorable picnic basket instead of the person who fell asleep there that’s next-level.

“Great,” he says. “I’m dead.”

Being dead-dead’s more Yogi Bear than he would’ve expected.

“It’s nice outside.”

Dean squints across the room to see Cas sitting in one of the crappy chairs by the window. He’s opened the blinds, letting in glimpses of warm sunlight and serene blue sky.

“I thought we could have a picnic,” he says.

Not dead, then.

Dean guesses it’s part of the deal. Now that Cas is back, and the world has quieted down (for now), they’re doing the road trip thing for real. Spending a little time seeing the country they’ve been saving, just the two of them, while Sam’s with Eileen. The motel rooms keep being one-bed-only. It’s enough to make a guy wonder if he’s cursed in, like, some really specific way.

So far, it’s been just time together, just the relief of having more of it. And lying really still pretending to sleep while you listen to your bunk buddy’s breaths and wonder like hell what they’re thinking. You know. The usual.

And now, apparently—

“A picnic?” Dean repeats, sitting up and trying to stretch away the crick in his neck.

“It’s what people do when it’s nice outside.”

“Right. And we’re people.”

“Yes.”

“People with nothing better to do.”

“Yes.”

“That’s gonna take some getting used to.” He flips one of the basket’s handles up and down. “Where the hell’d you get this?”

“I have powers.”

“Not anymore.”

“I’m no longer an angel. I still have powers.”

Dean pictures him wandering the aisles of the nearest supermarket along with the early bird senior shoppers, scanning the shelves with that little frown of somber concentration he gets, and smiles. “Well, hey. It’s cute.”

“It’s functional.”

Dean tugs at the exposed corner of the red blanket. “This goes beyond functional.”

“It’s to use as a picnic blanket.”

“Yeah, I don’t think the world’ll end if we sit right on the ground, buddy.”

“Sitting on the ground together on a red patterned blanket is part of the authentic picnic experience.”

“Sounds like a date.” Dean looks up, smirking, falling back into the normal rhythm. “If I didn’t know any better, Cas, I’d say you’re sweet on me.”

“I am sweet on you. That was the reason behind the gesture.”

Right. Not normal.

Cas tilts his head. “Do you need more time to get used to it?”

There it is. The question that hasn’t been asked.

Dean’s got nothing, but Cas just watches him patiently, like it’s enough, it will always be enough to just to look at him and wait.

And then there it is: an answer.

“No.” Dean springs out of bed as fast as his _we’re-forty-now_ limbs will let him. “I’ll jump in the shower, and then we’re making this picnic our bitch, okay?”

“Okay.”

Out of habit, he puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder as he passes him. Cas looks up at him, eyes blue like the waiting sky outside. Dean pauses. After a moment, he brings his hand to the side of Cas’s neck, curls his fingers gently there, feels the soft brush of Cas’s hair under his fingertips. Cas smiles at him.

“I’m not used to it,” Dean admits.

Cas leans slightly into his touch. “Neither am I.”

He doesn’t mean the gay thing. (The bi thing, probably. Maybe Sam’s sent him a few articles that he’s pretended not to bother reading.) That’s not it. It’s more like, the having-someone-at-all thing. The thing where that someone is already part of you, but now they’re ready to jump off a whole new kind of cliff together. That was never supposed to be Dean’s life, no chance, and now it stretches out in front of him, the only sure thing he’s got besides knowing that Sammy is finally where he’s supposed to be.

“But,” Dean says, “I’m gettin’ there. And hey. That’s half the fun, right?”

“That’s all the fun. That’s all there is, when you think about it.” Cas looks so calm at the idea of bittersweet mortality. “I think I like that about being alive.”

Dean thinks about kissing him, and doesn’t yet (he’s brushing his god damned teeth first), and heads for the bathroom.

But then he turns back.

“I kinda love you,” he says.

“I know you do,” says Cas.

“Oh yeah?”

Cas shrugs. “I don’t plan a picnic for just anybody.”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Smartass,” he mutters, smiling to himself as he walks into the bathroom. There’s the faint sound of Cas chuckling – man, that’s a good sound – just before he shuts the door.


End file.
